Birds, Bats, and Brothers
by Alex Skywalker
Summary: AU: The night the Graysons fell, their son, Richard, fell with them. He survived, but with some consequences. Now Robin and Dick Grayson must live with the after-affects of the "accident", but luckily he has his brothers and the Bat to help him! Series of one-shots about their 'adventures'. Renamed.
1. Intro

**A/N:** So I had part of this idea floating around for a while, and then I got the brilliant second part of the idea and I just had to write it!

This is gonna be a series of one-shots revolving around the Batfamily. It's and AU (like a legit AU) so there are some things wacked up, like the Robin's ages and their personalities (only a little), but I think you all will like it.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this except Skye.

So, the ages are (unless otherwise stated):

Damian: 18, Jason: 16, Dick: 13, Tim: 11

* * *

"Master Richard! Wake up. Master Jason! Up now! Master Bruce! Time to get up, sir. Master Timothy- oh, you're already up. Good, then you can go tell Master Damian to come upstairs and get ready for breakfast."

The English-accented voice drifted through the hallways of Wayne Manor in an attempt to awaken the residents that were still asleep. The paneled walls soaked up much of the sound, but the noise still did its job as three heads of black hair stirred as their owners groaned and rolled over, wishing that sleep would stay with them for a little while longer.

"Why 'oo we hafta gerrup so early?" A voice grumbled from one of the rooms.

"Get up and downstairs and I will tell you."

There was moan and the voice's body slumped back into its bed.

Dick Grayson yawned as he slowly sat up, his hand reaching up and rubbing his eyes before running itself through his tousled hair. At the foot of his bed, Ace, his dog, jumped off the bed and sat in front of his master, his tail wagging. Dick sat back on his pile of pillows and glanced over at the clock, his eyes flickering open and closed as he tried to stay awake. A second wake-up call from Alfred was always more unpleasant than the first.

6:00.

_Why so early?_ Dick groaned to himself. School didn't start until 7:55 and it only took him a half an hour to get ready and twenty minutes to eat breakfast and get out the door. And then with Jason driving, it only took ten minutes to get to school. He usually woke up at 6:45. And then Alfred was waking Bruce up too? Something was obviously going on.

Sighing, Dick crawled to the edge of the bed and reached for his prosthetic leg leaning against his nightstand. He quickly strapped it into place onto his thigh – all that remained of his left leg – before sliding off the bed and limping over to his bathroom, Ace following him, where he turned on the shower and climbed in – cursing when he realized it hadn't warmed up yet.

He was standing in front of his mirror in his boxers, Ace watching him, when he the door to his room flew open. Dick turned, the towel he had been using to dry the port on his right shoulder still in his hand, when a figure bounded in and immediately began bouncing on the bed.

"Timmy!" Dick sighed, watching his little 'brother' bounce up and down on his bed. "Can't you at least shut the door?"

Dick was used to his brother coming into his room while he was getting ready in the morning, but he still didn't want his door hanging wide open when he wasn't dressed! Dick shook his head, going back to drying out the inside of the metal appliance on his shoulder, or what was left of it, while the younger boy ran over and closed the door. He had to make sure the wires of the port were completely dry, because, as they could get a little wet when he took a shower, if water stayed in there, it could rust or short-circuit and the latter would be painful and the former would be a pain. The port was for attaching his mechanical arm that he used when he was out crime-fighting and was similar to the one on his leg, but that one stayed dry as his civilian prosthetic covered the opening.

"So," Dick yawned again, throwing the towel into the bathroom and going over to his closet to look for clothes. "Do you know why Alfred woke us up so early?"

"Nope!" Timmy called, jumping off the bed and walking over to stand behind his older brother. He was already dressed in school clothes, Dick noticed, though lacking shoes.

"But I was already awake, so it didn't matter to me!"

"Lucky you." Dick sighed, pulling out pants and his dark blue blazer. He really didn't like his school uniform much, but he could tolerate it, unlike Jason.

"Maybe Alfred has a surprise for us." Timmy suggested, crawling past Dick and beginning to dig through his closet. Despite being two years younger than Dick, who was thirteen, Timmy was already as tall as his older brother and enjoyed stealing his clothes.

"Can I have this?" He asked, holding up some article of clothing.

Dick looked up from buttoning his pants to see a blue shirt hanging in front of his face.

"No."

"Dang it!"

"Why would you want that anyway?" Dick asked struggling to pull his undershirt over his head. He was fairly competent at dressing with only one arm, but it still wasn't always the easiest.

"I dunno, cause I can?"

"Klepto." Dick muttered, buttoning up his white dress shirt. "Hey, hand me my blazer."

"Don't call it that!" Timmy shrieked, throwing the blazer so that it landed on Dick's head.

"Why not?"

"Cause it sounds weird!"

"How does it sound weird?"

"I dunno, it just does!"

"You're weird." Dick stuck his arm in the blazer and pulled it up to his shoulder with his teeth. Then he reached over his shoulder and tried to grab the other side, but ended up spinning around in a circle.

"Gah!"

"Here." Timmy pulled the other side of the jacket over and handed it to Dick.

"Thanks." Dick muttered.

He finished dressing – while Timmy got lost in his closet – and then stood in front of his mirror, slowly but expertly tying his tie. He reached over and tucked his empty right sleeve in his blazer pocket, sighing inwardly as he did, but he was used to it now, after four years. He looked over himself, his hair still sticking up all over the place, but he'd have Bruce fix it, because, even though Dick could do it himself with only a little trouble, Bruce was still better at it. His right side looked almost empty, as it always did without an arm, but he was used to that sight as well.

He often wished he could just wear the robotic arm that Batman had made Robin, but he knew he couldn't. It was one of things that would just be too obvious with his secret identity. Everyone knew that Dick Grayson had lost his arm and leg in the trapeze "accident" and the presence of a fully functional, near perfect robotic arm would be more than a little suspicious. Sure Bruce Wayne was one of the richest men in the world and would probably do anything to try and fix his ward, but such limbs were hard to find and the appearance of one on a normal civilian, no matter how wealthy and esteemed, would no doubt warrant an investigation. Said investigation would lead much too close to Batman for comfort. So it was, Robin had two arms, Dick Grayson had one. No one would suspect they were one in the same.

"Dick, stop looking at yourself!" Timmy cried, grabbing his older brother's arm and pulling him to the door, Ace getting up and trotting behind. "You're such a girl! 'Sides, breakfast's ready and Damian and Jason will eat it all if we don't hurry!"

"I'm pretty sure Jason's still asleep." Dick sighed, letting his brother pull him to the door.

"Master Jason! Don't make me come in there!"

"Yep, told ya. And I need to get my school work!"

"Get it later!" Timmy argued, yanking harder until Dick finally gave in and let himself be pulled downstairs, nearly tripping as his prosthetic leg sometimes proved to be hard to walk on, unlike his Robin leg, as it had no mobility of its own.

"Good morning, Master Richard, Timothy." Alfred greeted them.

"Hey, Alfie! Ooo, pancakes! I'm starving!" Timothy immediately sat down at the large table where Damian was already eating, the eighteen-year-old having five pancakes already on his plate and with the looks of reaching for more. Dick sat down next to his younger brother, who was already shoveling down pancakes and sausage faster than Wally.

"Not so fast, Master Timothy." Alfred shook his head and disappeared into the kitchen, coming back out a moment later with orange juice which he set on the table next to the stack of pancakes.

"Hey, Damian." Dick greeted, watching his oldest brother look up from the papers he had in his hand, nodding to Dick, before burying his head back in the stack. He was working on his college work from home until he could decide which high-end school he wanted to attend.

"Master Jason is still not up." Alfred grumbled and Dick watched head back for the stairs.

"I'll get him." Dick sighed, getting up again and heading for the stairs. "I'll get Bruce up too, if he isn't already."

Dick climbed back up the stairs, planning to head back to his room and get his school work when he ran into a large, black chest.

"Oh, good morning Dick." It was Bruce, dressed in a nice black suit and looking still half asleep.

"Morning Bruce. Hey, Jay, wake up!" Dick shouted, skirting around his guardian and pounding on his older 'brothers' door.

"Mm, yeah, up Jason." Bruce raised his voice, also hitting his wards door.

"I'm up!" Came an angry shout, followed by the sound of something hitting the door on the other side.

Dick laughed, heading to his own room where he quickly located his backpack and began shoving things, _neatly_, into the pocket, careful not to crinkle his papers. Once he was done he zipped it up and hurried back out the door, beginning to worry that Timmy might eat all the pancakes. That kid had an appetite to rival a speedster's.

Passing Jason's room, Dick suddenly felt himself pulled backwards and he yelped as a strong arm wrapped around his torso and lifted him off the ground.

"Attractive scream there, Dickie."

"Shut up." Dick mumbled struggling to get free. "You surprised me!"

Jason laughed and spun around, his brother still wrapped in his arms.

"Nice bed head." He smirked, bending down before heading down the stairs, Dick still held to his chest.

"Shut up and put me down." Dick muttered, twisting in an attempt to turn around and glare at his older brother. The guy wouldn't know personal space if it hit him in the head. Though he wasn't as bad as Timmy; that kid didn't know the meaning of privacy when dressing.

"Morning Alfie!" Jason called throwing what Dick assumed to be his schoolbag on a chair and bending over and grabbing a pancake from Timmy's plate.

"Ah, Master Jason, finally decided to grace us with your presence?" Alfred asked sarcastically while Timmy glared up at Jason.

"Well why'd you get us up so early to begin with?" Jason grumbled, setting Dick down gently, but not gently enough as he stumbled before Jason grabbed his arm to steady him.

"To answer your question, Master Jason, I will require everyone to be seated and to be attentive." Alfred glared down at Timmy who was, at the moment, making his pancakes have some kind of war with his sausage. Dick laughed at his brother's antics before sitting down next to him, quickly reaching for food before Jason could get it.

Jason sat down next to Dick, reaching across him and grabbing the orange juice from the younger boy's hand, earning him a smack on the head. Jason in turn threatened to pour orange juice on Dick's head while Dick fended him off with his fork.

The two had been extremely close ever since Bruce had brought Dick home from Juvie, only a week removed from the hospital with only two limbs and the death of his parents still fresh in his mind. Jason, despite his bad boy attitude, had somehow instantly bonded with the boy, with little or no trying on his part. Since then, Jason had taken it upon himself to, as he put it, 'protect' his little brother from 'the horrors of the world', which was hard to do with someone who'd fallen nearly to their death and came out as a double amputee. But then again, Jason was mostly talking about girls and dating.

"Jay, Dick, stop!" Timmy whispered, throwing bits of sausage at his brothers. "Alfred's not gonna tell why he woke us up if we're not paying attention."

Dick looked up to see the butler glaring at him and he quickly covered a smile and reached for the syrup.

"Ah, Master Bruce, just in time."

Four heads turned to the doorway where Bruce stood, his face haggard and his hair still a mess. The man shuffled into the kitchen and made a beeline to where Dick knew Alfred kept the coffee.

"Master Bruce, right here sir." Alfred directed, pointing to the head of the table where there was food and coffee already set out for the billionaire.

"Thanks, Alfred. Good morning boys."

They all replied with varying degrees of enthusiasm before turning back to Alfred expectantly.

"Well, now that you are all here, I assume you would like to know why I woke you up, as Bruce put it: 'at some ungodly hour of the morning'."

There were several snickers and an approving nod from Jason; everyone knew Bruce wasn't a morning person.

"The reason," Alfred continued, "Is standing behind me in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess from breakfast. Her name is Skye and she is the new housekeeper."

Startled looks were quickly passed between the three youngest boys, while Damian only glanced up briefly from his papers before glancing back down again. Bruce looked unperturbed by this, but of course he was expected to have known about it as he was the one paying her.

"Miss Skye," Alfred called into the kitchen. "They are ready to meet you."

Dick craned his head around Timmy's to see a young woman, probably nineteen or twenty, come out of the kitchen, an apron around her waist and a towel in her hand. She was actually rather attractive, for an old lady, Dick couldn't help thinking, and he saw Jason perk up at the sight of her and Damian put down his paper and stare. Once she entered the room, Bruce stood up and walked over to stand beside her, giving a small batglare to all the staring faces before smiling slightly and introducing her – again.

"Skye is here," he began, "To assist Alfred with the housework and cooking as well as to serve as the gardener. Don't worry," he added, looking pointedly at Jason and Dick. "She has undergone an extensive background check of which I'm sure she was thrilled." Everyone knew the story of the previous housekeeper who'd turned out to be a jewel thief in disguise. They also knew how it had been Dick and Jason who had caught him in the end.

Skye smiled at them, Dick noticing her gaze rested slightly longer on him, or more particularly his right side where his flattened sleeve hung down from his blazer. He was used to people staring at him, especially when he wore shorts or a t-shirt (something he avoided doing as much as possible) but that didn't make it any less annoying and frustrating. Skye quickly looked away, though, and made no move as to if she'd seen anything out of the ordinary. Because of that, Dick gave her a point up on his liking-a-person scale.

"Now," Bruce continued. "I expect you all to be polite to Miss Skye and to respect her. That means no pranks." He looked pointedly at Dick and Jason – again. "And no scaring her on purpose." This time the glare was directed at Timmy. That kid had a flare for dramatics and had, on more than one occasion, scared someone into thinking he'd died or was on the brink of death. He claimed he was training to be an actor.

"Also, don't purposely make extra work for her," Bruce scanned his gaze over all his children. "Or flirt with her, or fight with her, or lock her up anywhere, or purposely cause her to get lost, or-" He stopped, glancing briefly at Skye's worried face. "Um, just be good and be nice." He finally decided, nodding and sitting back down.

There was a rather uncomfortable silence until Jason stood up and grabbed his bag off the chair. His school uniform, as always, was open in the front showing his white shirt and sloppily tied tie. His hair was messy, though purposely so, and he looked like he was trying to abide by the dress code as least as possible, which was true.

"Well, gotta go. School. Come on Tim, Dick, we have to pick up Barbara."

"Not so fast." Alfred called as the two other boys stood and made for the door. "Introduce yourself to Miss Skye."

"Jason." Jason yelled, already out the door.

"I'm Tim." Timmy piped up. "But you can call me Timmy, or T, or Drake, or T Drake, or whatever. I'm adaptable."

"I'm Dick."

"I'm Damian. It's nice to meet you."

"Dick, Tim, let's go!" Jason's voice shouted from somewhere outside.

"Coming!" Timmy shouted. His uniform was in nicer order than Jason's and his hair was nice, though it was far shorter than Jason's, so it usually looked somewhat nice. "Bye Bruce, bye Alfie, bye Skye, Bye Dami!" And then he ran out the door.

"Timmy, shoes!" Bruce called.

Timmy ran back in and grabbed his shoes. "Heh heh. Bye again!"

"Bye Bruce!" Dick called, slipping on his shoes and flattening down his hair as best as possible (so much for having Bruce gel it) before following his little brother out the door. Ace trotted over to the door as well where he stood and watched his master leave. "Bye Alfred, Damian, Skye."

He turned around just in time to see Damian talking to Skye, an enraptured look on his face, before Jason honked the horn of his car, a black sports car that he was extremely proud of, and Dick stumbled down the steps and hurried to climb in, annoyed that Timmy had already claimed shotgun.

oOo

Once they'd gotten to school, Barbara in tow, they all split off, Timmy heading towards the middle school wing of the building and Dick, Barbara and Jason heading for the opposite wing. Jason quickly veered off towards his friends and Dick and Barbara stuck together as they headed for their first classes.

"Finish that project for history yet?" Barbara asked, turning the dial to her locker as she spoke.

"Nah, I'm still stuck on my subject since it sucks." Dick replied, forcefully yanking open his locker door (it tended to stick) and deposited his backpack before grabbing out a few books.

"Yeah, same. I mean I haven't finished it yet; my subjects okay."

"Lucky." Dick sighed, hefting his books higher up in his arm before kicking his locker shut and turning towards his first classroom.

"See you at lunch!" Barbara called, heading in the opposite direction.

"Yeah."

As it turned out, lunch couldn't come soon enough.

Dick was smart. Really smart. So smart that he'd skipped ahead and was now a freshman, despite being only thirteen. He was also in a few advanced classes, namely math and science. Being a freshman was hard enough for most people, but when you'd skipped up a grade and were already small to begin with, it was all the more difficult. Add that to the fact that you were missing a couple limbs and were the ward of the richest man in Gotham, you were just begging to be picked on.

Dick could handle school work well enough in class, though he tended to get antsy sometimes as he didn't enjoy sitting still for so long for something as boring as school. Just because he was smart didn't mean he liked lectures. Writing could sometimes prove a problem, but Dick had learned to write with his left hand – he'd had to – and his handwriting wasn't too bad. Still, whenever he could he either had one of his brothers write for him or he used the computer (though that was slow).

He wasn't picked on often, as most were scared of Jason, but there always the quiet remarks and whisperings behind his back. He was used to this too, but, like everything else, he wished it would go away. Sure, it wasn't the norm for a kid to only have one arm and leg, but that didn't mean one had to stare. Dick took with grace, as it was in his personality and upbringing, and even answered questions about to some extent, but he was thirteen and sometimes wished he could just be normal. Or at least whole. Of course, his brothers and Bruce were really good about it and were good at ignoring his disabilities so it wasn't that bad most the time. And of course when he was Robin, he was whole, to some extent, even it came at a price.

By the time lunch had come around, Dick was rather fed up with the taunts and was glad when he could sit down next to Barbara and Timmy, who didn't have many friends his own age (most kids thought he was kind of weird) and talk to them without them constantly staring at his right shoulder.

"And then I told him that the square root of and imaginary number is negative one and he looked at me funny and told that an imaginary number is a number that doesn't exist and that it was a joke and that I was too smart and should go shove my face in a trashcan and so I told that would be gross and he said that was the point and then I walked away cause he's dumb." Timmy smiled, apparently happy with his story.

"And you wonder why you don't have friends." Dick joked, smirking when Timmy stuck out his tongue.

"I don't wanna be friends with the people in my class anyway. They're all dumb."

"Tim, don't call people dumb." Barbara admonished, taking a bit of her sandwich.

"Why not?" Jason had just walked over and sat down between Dick and Timmy.

"Because then he'll turn out like you!" Barbara answered, glaring at the older boy. Their relationship was an amusing one, to say the least. The whole Wayne family treated Barbara like a sister, and Jason took it upon himself to act as her teasing older brother.

"And why's that so bad?"

"Shut up, Jason."

And so the day carried on until they all returned to their homes where their family was waiting. But not in a sappy way, of course. Heaven forbid it be in anyway sappy, Timothy. Their family was an unusual one, but a good one, according to everyone concerned (yet again, not sappy, Tim). So, that being said, I will now commence in telling you tales of the Batfamily, as some call it, that I hope will be to your enjoyment. Hence follows those tales, some happy, some sad, some just plain ridiculous (those will likely be about Timmy) but all positively one hundred percent true, unless otherwise tampered with by Jason.

* * *

**A/N: **There it is! Yes, I told you it's AU. But I personally like it! And about Skye: she's only there to act as a sort of motherly figure so no worries about her being a Mary Sue-ish character.

So, please review and feel free to request things! I have some ideas lined up, but will most likely use yours at some point if you submit some! Also, any ideas for a title?

Alex out.


	2. Cats and Closets

**A/N: **So here's another chapter. Keep in mind this is an AU, so the characters personalities will differ some from the norm. I try to keep Dick as in character as possible, but again, AU, so are differences.

Thanks for the reviews! Three anonymous reviews! Wow, that's cool! Thanks you **Guest**, **Becky Blue** (A bazooka? That would be hilarious!) and** Anonymous! **I'm really glad you like this!

This chapter is just a random little idea. I will write one about them as heroes soon, but I still need to do a little thinking about it first!

* * *

"Hey, hey, Dick." Timmy tugged on his older brother's sleeve trying to get his attention.

"I'm busy, Tim." Dick muttered, ignoring his brother's insistent tugging. He was bent over the kitchen table, a pencil in his hand poised over papers as he_ tried_ to start on his history project. So far he'd gotten an introduction and his name written down, but he'd crossed them both off after deciding to start over, only to try to erase the lines, but fail miserably. He'd finally given up and started over, but couldn't remember what he'd written before and was stuck – again.

"But Dick, it's really important." Timmy pleaded, beginning to twist Dick's empty sweatshirt sleeve in his hands.

"Tim, I already told you – hey, let go of my sleeve!" Dick lightly hit Timmy's hand with his pencil until he dropped the sleeve.

"Sorry. But I really, really, reaaaally want to tell you something."

"What is it?" Dick asked with a sigh, setting his pencil down and pivoting in his chair to face his brother. It wasn't like he was going to get the stupid project done anyway. Maybe he could just ask Jason for his old one and copy that. Dick was usually loath to cheat, but this was borderline ridiculous.

"Well, see," Timmy began, bouncing excitedly, happy he'd gotten his brother's attention. "It's about Skye-"

Dick groaned. "Timmy, I've already told you! It was a one-time thing me and Jason did. That guy was shifty from the start. 'Sides, Bruce said he ran an extensive background check on Skye; don't you trust him?"

"No, but Dick, you don't understand! I heard something coming from her room! It was like a scream or something, but more excruci'ting sounding!"

"Excruciating sounding?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Timmy's pronunciation.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. That's not the point! The point is I think she's torturing someone in her room!"

At this Dick laughed and stood up, gathering his homework into a pile and shoving it into his backpack which he slung over his shoulder.

"What's so funny?" Timmy demanded crossing his arms. "And what are you doing?"

"I'm helping you investigate." Dick replied, heading towards the stairs.

"Yes!"

Once Dick had deposited his school bag in his room, he and Timmy made their way quietly over to Skye's room, careful to avoid Alfred's routes on the way. Skye's current room was on the fourth floor, in a rather abandoned part of the mansion until Alfred could finish preparing her a more permanent room and by the time they got to it, Dick's leg was sore from all the stairs. He could climb stairs fine, but it could be painful if he had to do a lot at a time.

"Alright," Timmy whispered, already in 'spy' mode. "Her room's this way. It's actually rather creepy over here. It looks like an old castle or something and there're all these abandoned rooms."

The two snuck along a rather old, un-renovated hallway until they reached a large door with a ring of flowers on the doorknob.

"Yep," Dick said, pointing to the flowers. "She's definitely the torturing type."

"It's all part of her act." Timmy whispered. "And keep your voice down, she might here you."

"She's downstairs – I saw her cooking dinner."

"Not Skye." Timmy hissed. "Her prisoner."

Dick rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything.

"Okay, so if we just wait here for a little bit we should start to hear to wailing." Timmy pressed his ear to the door and screwed his face up as he tried to listen.

"Um, Timmy," Dick suddenly thought of something. "What were you doing over here in the first place?"

"I was bored."

"You need a hobby." Dick decided.

"Sh!" Timmy squeaked, his hand going to cover his brother's mouth. "There it is! The wailing of her prisoner!"

Dick shoved Timmy's hand off his mouth before pressing his own ear against the door. And then he heard it. A long, drawn out wail, resembling that of a mourning person filled with agony. The sound sent shivers down his spine and Dick felt goosebumps on his arm. Timmy turned to him, wide eyed.

"See, I told you!" He whispered. Dick could see fear on his face. "When I first heard that, I took off running! I she'd caught me and was gonna eat more or something."

"Tim, it's probably just the wind or something." Dick reassured his brother (and himself). "Skye's too nice to torture people. Come on, let's go in and look."

Timmy nodded, but didn't look convinced. Dick slowly turned the old wooden handle on the door and it slowly creaked open, revealing a large, spacious room with a fireplace, a giant old bed, a wardrobe, a bathroom, a small kitchenette looking space and a large, looming double doored closet at set in the far wall. Dick was about to take a step into the room when Timmy grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Careful! It could be booby-trapped!" He explained.

"No one booby-traps their bedroom, Tim."

"Bruce does. And Jason."

"But Bruce is paranoid and freaking rich and Batman. And Jason is…. Jason. My point is, normal people don't booby-trap their bedroom."

"Normal people don't torture other people either." Timmy pointed out. "We should test the floor with something. Got a smoke bomb on you?"

"Here." Dick handed him a small, metal ball and Timmy tossed it into the room, watching as it rolled across oak floor before coming to a stop next to the bed.

"See," Dick said. "No booby-traps."

"They could be weight sensitive."

"Then I'll go first. If my leg gets blown off it's no big deal." Dick stepped around his younger brother.

"But projectiles could shoot from the walls and shish kabob you!"

"I'll take my chances." Dick took a step into the room, his prosthetic leg making a slight, hollow clanging sound on the wood, but he was otherwise un-shish kabobbed. Dick took a few more steps in before turning and smirking at his brother.

"Fine, fine, you were right." Timmy grumbled, stepping cautiously into the room alongside his brother. "That doesn't mean there isn't someone in here being tortured."

And then they heard it again, the wailing, moaning sound. Dick froze, his Robin senses going crazy as he tried to locate the source of the sound. He glanced quickly at the window, but found that it wasn't the least bit windy outside. Timmy had frozen as well and Dick could tell he was also trying to find the sound, but was having similar luck. He'd moved unconsciously closer to his older brother and was now clutching Dick's empty right sleeve as he scanned the room.

"The sound," Dick whispered, realization dawning on him. "It's coming from the closet!"

Timmy's eyes grew wide and he moved even closer to the older boy. They stood like that, for a moment as the sound slowly faded away before Timmy finally said:

"W-we should let it out, don't you think? Save it?"

Dick took a deep breath to calm himself down. Whatever it was, he was overreacting. There definitely wasn't a tortured person in their housekeeper's closet. There was obviously an explanation for the wails, right?

"Tim, there isn't anyone in there. It's probably just-"

"Probably just what, Dick?" Timmy screeched. "The wind? I don't think there's wind in a closet!"

Dick was stuck. He didn't really have any idea what it was, but he refused to believe in any wild idea his little brother came up with. But then again….

"C'mon, let's just open it and find out." Dick took hesitant steps until he stood in front of the closet door, his hand outstretched, prepared to pull it open. He grasped the handle and was about to pull when-

"Wait!" Timmy squeaked. "What if the person's all gory and bloody and PG-13! I'm too young to have my mind poisoned!"

"You see people shot like once a month." Dick reminded him, pulling the handle down slowly. "And besides there isn't anyone in here…."

The door finally swung open and the brothers held their breaths. Dick caught a glimpse of a coat and a nice dress shirt before suddenly:

"Ah!" Dick cried as something flew at his face, knocking him off balance and onto his back. He felt sharp claws dig into his skin before the weight was lifted and Dick twisted around to see a cat streaking out the door, its tail looking like a duster. Dick looked up to see Timmy laughing, pointing at Dick on the ground as he held onto the closet door for support.

Dick struggled back to his feet and brushed hair off his face and shirt.

"See, told you it wasn't a person. It was only one of Damian's cats."

"Hahaha! You should've seen your face! It was hilarious!" Timmy gasped, still laughing.

"Not as funny as you when I lock you in the closet!" Dick cried, launching himself at his younger brother as he tried to grab the boy and shove him in the closet.

They rolled around, each fighting for the upper hand, Dick tickling Timmy whenever he had the chance (he knew his weakness) and Timmy mostly trying to avoid peeing his pants. Then footsteps echoed outside in the hallway and both boys froze, their heads snapping towards the door.

"Skye." Timmy gasped, shooting to his feet.

"The closet," Dick whispered as Timmy pulled his brother up. "Quick."

The two boys ran into the closet, shutting the door behind them and peeking through the crack between the two doors just as the young housekeeper walked through the _left open_ bedroom door. Dick was tempted to facepalm. Skye didn't seem too worried though and Dick sighed in relief as she went over to the kitchenette area and began fiddling with something out of his sight.

Suddenly Dick felt a tugging on his sleeve and he turned to where he expected his brother was. There was very little light filtering in through the crack between the two doors and Dick could just barely make out Timmy's face in the darkness.

"What?" Dick whispered.

"How're we gonna get out here if Skye decides to stay for like the rest of the night?" Timmy asked.

Dick thought for a moment, the thought of being stuck in the closet not a pleasant one.

"Well, how'd the cat get in here?" Dick asked.

"However it got in here sure didn't help it get out." Timmy replied.

Dick ignored his brother and brushed past him, stepping quietly to avoid making any noise that might alert Skye to their presence. No matter how nice she seemed, he doubted she, or Alfred, would take kindly to finding two boys hiding in her closet. Once Dick felt the back of the closet with his hand, he knelt down, keeping his prosthetic leg out to the side, and began running his hand over the back, sides and floor of the closet.

"What're you doing?" Timmy whispered, crouching down next to his older brother.

"Looking for a trap door or something similar that might lead out of here."

"Oh."

"You can help, you know."

After a minute or two it became apparent that there were no such passages in or out of the closet.

"Hey, maybe it's in the ceiling." Timmy stood up and gave an experimental jump. "I can't reach it, though."

"Did you really think you could?"

"'S not like you could either."

Dick stared up at the ceiling, though he couldn't see in all the shadows.

"Hey!" Timmy exclaimed. "One of us could stand on the other!"

"Great." Dick sighed. This could end badly.

"You should stand on me since you have less, um, body I guess so you're lighter." Timmy decided.

"But you'll be able to balance better." Dick retorted. While he had grown up as an acrobat, with the loss of his limbs had come the loss of a lot his balance. As Robin, he had it nearly all restored, but as Dick, with his immobile prosthetic leg and only one arm, Timmy's balance far outranked his. "Besides, if we do find a door, I won't be able to pull you up." His one arm was strong, but not that strong.

"Okay, fine." Timmy agreed. "But don't drop me!"

"I'm not gonna drop you!"

"I just wanna be sure!"

Dick positioned himself against the wall and braced his body with arm.

"Okay, Tim, climb up and feel around for any abnormally shaped ceiling."

Timmy didn't need to be told twice as he scurried up his older brother's back, his hands and feet shoving Dick uncomfortably as he did so. Timmy was kneeling on his shoulders and was straightening up when-

"Oof!"

"What?"

"I hit my head! The ceiling a ton lower in here than in the room."

Dick shifted a little before directing: "Feel around, there has to be some sort of hole up there."

"Kay." A pause, then: "Your legs not gonna give out when I'm up here, is it?"

"No." Dick hissed. "It doesn't give out on me."

"But maybe with extra weight…."

"Just look for the door!"

There was some muffled shuffling as Dick winced as Timmy's feet kicked his head multiple times. His shoulders started to hurt pretty quickly but thankfully Timmy quietly called down:

"I found a hole in the ceiling! I think there's a passage through it!"

"Great, now climb up there and get off me!"

Timmy wasted no time in clambering up and off Dick, his feet hanging in the air for a second before they disappeared into darkness.

"What's up there?" Dick asked.

"Um," The reply was muffled and slightly echo-y. "A long passage I think. I dunno though, I can't see anything. Here," Two hands reached down out of the darkness. "I'll pull you up."

Dick stood underneath the hands and leaped up, kicking off the wall to give himself more height before he felt his brothers hands grasp his arm. Timmy pulled him up until his torso was above the hole then Dick crawled up, Timmy grabbing his sweatshirt hood and helping him. Dick took a minute to catch his breath before he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, hitting the home button to turn it on. The large screen filled the small passage with light and Dick found that they were sitting in the middle of what looked like a miniature hallway.

The ceiling was about five and a half feet high and the walls about two and a half to three feet apart. The tunnel went on in both directions for farther than Dick could see and on the walls there were what looked like old brackets for torches.

"Woah." Timmy breathed, his blue eyes wide.

"I wonder where this leads." Dick whispered, peering down each passageway trying to see if it changed at some point.

"Well, only one way to find out!" Timmy stood up and pulled Dick to his feet.

Dick shrugged and took off down the passage, holding his phone out in front so they could see where they were going.

They had been walking for a minute or two when the passageway started getting smaller and smaller and finally they were forced to crawl. Dick gave Timmy the phone as he couldn't crawl and hold it up at the same time. As they crawled, they noticed the passage slowly became newer looking and the torch brackets disappeared. The walls, floor and ceiling turned from decaying stones to new looking bricks and Dick found his real knee was beginning to get sore from constantly hitting the hard ground. They passed multiple forks and intersections in the passage, but they decided not to go down any and continue on their current one.

They'd been crawling for at least ten minutes and Dick was about ready to try a new strategy when they Dick suddenly found himself falling. He heard Timmy shriek and then he hit something… lumpy?

"What the-?"

Dick shook his head as he sat up, finding Timmy sitting next to him. Wait, was that Jason?"

A door was opened and light poured in causing the two boys to blink rather owlishly up at their older brother who stood framed in the doorway, a stunned expression on his face.

"What are you two doing in my closet?" He shouted, reaching in and dragging them both out.

"Um…."

"We found this secret passageway and followed it here?" Timmy tried.

"Oh." Jason deposited the both on his bed and raised an eyebrow at them before walking over to his closet and glancing in before turning back to them.

"You know there's a ladder in there, right?" Jason asked, shutting the door.

"Wait, what?"

"You think I'd live in this house for six years and not find its secrets? Or at least the ones important for escaping punishment on short notice." Jason smirked.

The two younger were silent for a moment until Dick finally burst out:

"And you didn't tell me about this before because?"

"I wanted you to find them on your own."

"Why?!"

"Consider it a test of sorts."

"Jason!"

* * *

**A/N: **These stories are mostly for when I'm bored and hence will not be nearly as hard-worked-on (?) as my legit story Behind the Mask, but hopefully they will be acceptable since I enjoy this AU I made up.

Thanks for reading and please review!

Alex out.


	3. Cooking With Calamity

**A/N: **Thank you everyone who reviewed! Thanks to: **Dextra2, ObiWan1022, A-Bookworm-Named-Seph, Keepmovingforward2, Anonymous 1 and 2, roguelover321, and Becky Blue. A**nd in reply to Anonymous who mentioned this (Thank you so much by the way!): Dick's mechanical fighting arm is far more advanced than any made now. And because of how it attaches to his body (by a large metal contraption on his shoulder that hooks it to his nerves) it makes it impossible for him to wear a normal robotic arm. Same with is leg. It's just the price he has to pay to be Robin. Hope that makes sense.

I just wanted to say right now that the character's may seem out of character, but remember, this is an AU so they have different lives, hence they will act differently. That's all! _«_

* * *

Robin swung his arm at the older boy, his fist travelling in an arc before meeting a metal plate with a clang and being flung backwards. The force of the rebound dragged Robin backwards and he was forced to handspring back in order to regain his balance. He readied himself again, this time leaping up and sending a flying sidekick at his opponent, only to be once again blocked and hurtled backwards.

"Robin, remember: don't rely only on your arm and leg. While they will do serious damage to some opponents, others are prepared, like me." Nightwing held up one of his arms that was incased in metal plating to the elbow.

"Yeah, yeah." Robin grumbled, unconsciously rubbing his shoulder.

"Is your shoulder hurting?" Nightwing asked, relaxing from his own fighting position and watching his younger brother closely.

"Eh, yeah, kinda." Robin admitted. The strain of having to wear it for days straight during a mission with the Team coupled with the hour of sparring he'd just completed, was beginning to wear on his nerves. Literally. His shoulder was sore as was his thigh and he wanted to remove his fighting limbs to rid himself of the pain.

"Alright, we'll take a break." Nightwing said, already unstrapping the metal plates from his forearms. Batman made all his kids wear metal plating on their arms and sometimes chest, depending on how good they were, whenever they fought Robin in order that they could block his attacks without breaking their arms.

Robin nodded, straightening up and walking over to the 'locker room' as Timmy called where his clothes were. He quickly stripped of his hero costume and then released the mechanical arm from his shoulder, sighing in relief once the nerves disconnected. He did the same for his leg, strapping on his civilian one immediately after, and put both fighting limbs in their proper cases on the wall.

Once he was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, Dick hurried upstairs out of the Batcave. Alfred was away, as was Bruce, and it was Skye's day off so the kids had the house themselves. Of course, Bruce hadn't been too thrilled about leaving them home alone (he was worried about the ensuing destruction) but Damian had promised to watch them.

"Dick, there you are." It was Jason, coming around the corner from the kitchen. "Me and Timmy are making dinner and you have to help us."

"I thought Damian was making dinner." Dick followed his older brother into the kitchen.

"He told us to. Said he had too much homework."

"You can't even cook." Dick pointed out.

"Timmy says he can. And you can, right?"

Dick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Timmy can make toast. And I can read a cookbook."

"Eh," Jason shrugged. "That's all we need."

"We're gonna have toast for dinner?" Dick wasn't too enthusiastic about that idea.

"No, we actually have to make something."

"Why?"

They'd reached the kitchen now where Timmy sat on the counter, a cookbook open in lap and what looked like every ingredient in the whole kitchen scattered around him.

"Jason lost a bet." Timmy piped up, obviously having heard his older brothers' conversation. "Now we have to make what I want."

Dick turned and glared at Jason who looked annoyed himself as he took off his leather jacket and chucked it near the stove.

"Tim, why don't we just have cereal or something?"

"I like cooking." Timmy jumped off the counter, the cookbook still in his hands. "It's fun. 'Sides, I really want pizza."

"Then just order pizza."

"No!" Timmy protested. "I wanna make it!"

"Why do you insist on complicating everything?" Dick groaned, snatching the cookbook from his brother and putting on the counter before flipping through the pages.

"Fine, pizza can't be that hard." He continued flipping through the book, trying to find the 'P's only to discover it wasn't in alphabetical order but in some other order.

"Where'd you find that anyway?" Jason asked Timmy, his head craned over Dick shoulder as he spoke.

"I dunno. I was digging around and found it hidden in some cupboard or something." Timmy shrugged, back to sitting on the counter.

"Weird. Didn't think Alfred even owned a cookbook."

"Okay, I found pizza." Dick announced, the book opened to a page somewhere near the back.

"Yay! What do we need to do first?" Timmy asked, scooting over and looking down at the recipe.

"Umm," Dick squinted at the small words, trying to decipher their meaning. Cooking terms were complicated. "It says 'prepare dough sponge and proof yeast'-"

"What's dough sponge?" Timmy asked. "And proof yeast?"

"Uh, I'm not really sure. It says we need flour, water, and sugar."

Timmy immediately crawled across the table and grabbed the flour, crawling back and handing the flour to Dick before suddenly yanking back to his chest.

"We need to wash our hands!" He screeched, dropping the flour and crawling across the table to the sink. "We have to be sanitary!" He called over his shoulder, the water already running.

"Says the boy on the table." Jason muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the refrigerator.

Dick rolled his eyes, but complied and washed his hand. The sink decided to be funny though and sprayed him in the face when he turned the water on. Timmy nearly fell off the table laughing and Dick nearly pushed him off. Once Dick had managed to dunk Timmy's head in the sink, they both returned to the cookbook.

"Okay, so-"

"No!" Timmy cried again, still on the counter. "Jason didn't wash his hands!"

"I'm not gonna wash my hands."

"Jason." Dick groaned, rounding on his older brother before Timmy could.

"Do it, Jay!" Timmy demanded, hopping off his perch on marching over to the sixteen year old.

"No."

"Do it!"

"No!"

"Just appease him Jason!"

"No."

"Jason, I'm gonna tickle you!"

"So scary."

"Hey, so if appease means to pacify or make peace, then pease means to make angry or bring turmoil?"

"Jay, I'm warning you!"

"Timmy, just shut up!'

"Jason, stop 'peasing Timmy."

"Dick, that's not a word."

"Wash your hands!"

"No!"

"Jason!"

After a good five minutes, Timmy and Dick had finally managed to get Jason to wash his hands, though it had resulted in the kitchen dripping wet. Dick was slumped against a counter, his hair wet and dripping in his face and Jason stood scowling in the corner while Timmy tried to dry off the cookbook with a blow-dryer. All three were soaked and Dick was about ready to just order pizza and be done with it.

"Dick, come on! I need you to read the cookbook!" Timmy was up on the counter again waving the still-wet book in the air.

"Timmy, it's not that hard. You can read it too you know."

"Yeah, but I want you to, cause you're good at it."

Dick sighed and grabbed the cookbook from his little brother.

"Um, okay, we have to mix all this stuff together," He instructed, pointing to the list of ingredients. "And let it sit out and get foamy."

"Oo, oo! I wanna mix!" Timmy cried, crawling over and grabbing a bowl before dumping all the ingredients in, somewhat measured, and stirring the mixture.

"Now we need crushed tomatoes."

"I'll do that." Jason growled, an angry gleam in his eye. Dick watched as he snatched five tomatoes from a bowl on the counter, dropped them into a bowl, and began beating at them with what looked like a miniature spiked mallet.

"Woops."

Dick spun around at the sound of Timmy's voice, only to get a face full of snow. Snow? Dick began coughing as he inhaled the powdery white substance, his vision obscured by it. He heard Jason yell and start cursing, probably similarly engulfed in the… flour? Dick spit some out of his mouth, the taste gross.

Once the flour settled, Dick looked around and saw two ghostly looking figures staring at him. He looked down and saw he too was covered in flour. He started laughing, Timmy doing the same, while Jason stood and glared at them. Dick tried to move over to the counter to lean on while he was still laughing and ended up slipping on the floor and landing on his butt. Jason just rolled his eyes at his younger brother, scowling when he saw how covered he was.

Once the two younger had managed to get control of themselves, Jason had decided to take over the ingredient measuring and leave Timmy only the stirring to avoid further spills. They were getting along pretty fine until they reached a point in the recipe and discovered they couldn't find goat cheese.

"Why do we even need goat cheese in pizza?" Timmy asked, running across the counter in order to look in the cupboards.

Jason shrugged, down on his hands and knees as he searched through the lower shelves.

"Why don't we just not add goat cheese?" Dick asked, struggling to climb onto the counter to search the top of the refrigerator. His prosthetic leg kept slipping and he was having a hard to getting a grip with only one hand.

"Do you want to mess with the recipe?" Jason asked, his voice muffled by the cupboard he'd stuck his head in. "Because I don't want the kitchen to explode again."

"Okay, fine, never mind." Dick said quickly, the memory of the incidence barreling to the forefront of his mind. Bruce had tried to cook for them while Alfred was away one time and had decided to leave out some ingredients in the recipe because he couldn't find them, and the oven had ended up catching on fire and then eventually blowing up. It hadn't been good.

"Goat cheese, goat cheese, where art thou goat cheese?" Timmy sang from somewhere in the cupboards.

"Jason," Dick called, finally having gotten on the counter only to find that there was no goat cheese in the refrigerator. "Check the freezer; Alfred might've frozen some."

Jason grunted in agreement, standing up – only to hit his head on the top of the cupboard he'd been in.

"Agh!"

"What?" Timmy shrieked, sticking his head out of his own cupboard, his eyes wide. "Where're the zombies?"

Jason straightened up, rubbing his head and giving Timmy a weird look.

"Zombies?" He raised an eyebrow at Dick who only snickered.

Jason then went over to the freezer and yanked it open, disappearing inside. Dick heard an 'ah hah!' and then a shout and then a word he hoped Timmy hadn't heard and then crashing noise and then silence. Too much silence.

"Jason?" Dick called, still perched up on the counter.

Jason walked out, carrying the goat cheese, a scared look on his face.

"Crap, crap, crap." He muttered, shutting the freezer door gently and slowly backing away.

"What'd you-"

"I think I broke the freezer."

"What?" Dick's eyes widened and Timmy flipped out of the cupboard, his pants catching a briefly on a knob, before it turned and he was free.

"Stupid cheese was stuck. Got mad. Mighta hit something…."

"You hit the freezer with frozen cheese?" Dick exclaimed, jumping down from the counter and landing on his good foot.

"Uh, not exactly…."

"What did you hit it with then?"

"My foot?"

"Jay broke the freezer, Jay broke the freezer!" Timmy chanted.

"Shut up, Tim."

Dick opened the freezer door and stuck his head in, glancing around at the shelves stocked with frozen food and then hearing the silence, the fan not running. His eyes found the main power source and he quickly took in the large dent in it.

"Well," He shut the door again. "Wouldn't wanna be when Alfred gets back. Actually, I'd never wanna be you, but that's beside the point."

Jason looked like he wanted to crawl in a hole and die, and Dick assumed that's how he felt too.

"Uh, I smell something burnt." Timmy said, a worried look on his face.

"We're not cooking anything, though." Dick replied. He sniffed and smelt a burning smell as well.

"Well then what's that-"

Three heads turned towards the stove before three pairs of eyes widened in alarm at what they saw:

"The stove's burning!" Timmy shrieked.

"I can see that, genius!" Jason yelled.

Dick spun around eyes searching until they landed on the fire extinguisher. He rushed over, yanking it out of its place on the wall and steadied it against his leg, struggling to get it to work with only one hand. Jason, seeing what he was doing, ran over and yanked the extinguisher from his little brother's grasp, spraying it full blast on the raging inferno that was the stove.

Once it was out, the three boys stood, wide eyed, staring at the charred stove. The wall behind it had burnt as well, as had the counters on either side.

"What… was… that?" Jason panted, the fire extinguisher still in his arms and a wild look in his eyes.

"Someone must've hit the stove accidently and turned on one of the burners." Dick gave a pointed look to his brothers.

"Uh," Timmy started fidgeting with his sleeve. "A-are the burners operated by knobs?"

Both older boys glared at him.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to! I was too busy being distracted by Jason breaking the freezer."

Jason glared harder.

Dick walked cautiously over to burnt area, eyes scanning the ruins. "The burners must've caught something on fire which ended up setting the whole thing on fire. Was there anything over here?"

"I put my jacket-" Jason froze mid-sentence, his head slowly swiveling to face his youngest brother. "You better start running." He growled.

Timmy didn't need to be told twice; he shot out of the kitchen like a sling stone, Jason close behind yelling at him.

"Damian!" Dick called. "I think you should order pizza…."

* * *

**A/N: **So, if you have some, please please please message me ideas if you want more chapters! I only really write this when I am bored and I only started it to practice certain techniques I wanna use in my main story and is hence not my best work. I also wanted to try an AU. So, review ideas, what you liked, criticism and all that good stuff! Thank you for reading!

Alex out.


	4. Thanksgiving

**A/N: **So, it's a little late for thanksgiving (okay, really late), but I wrote this and then started working on my other story and only just finished it, but figured since I hadn't updated in forever, I might as well. So, sorry for the loooong break. Hope you are all still there! Thanks for reviewing **Dextra2, dustfeather1864** (thanks for the idea),** Thalia Athene** (his prosthetic leg is not robotic; it goes on over the brace on his leg and is operated by springs and stuff. If you look up prosthetic legs, it might help cuz I'm not the best at explaining how they work. Most arms are robotic (so the fingers can move and stuff) and the metal brace on his shoulder prevents him from having one besides his Robin one (which hurts to wear for a long period of time and also draws too much attention as a civilian) and he doesn't have any arm left to attach a fake one too and there really isn't one good enough that he could have that would help him at all. Sorry if that was confusing!),** Keepmovingforward2, Kittyfan12** (I hope you're still invested, even though it's taken a while!),** Anonymous** (I love tacos!),** Becky Blue, KNack** (Thanks for the idea!).

Also, kudos to all who made the FMA connection. ;) Enjoy!

* * *

It's not like Bruce had any relatives, or at least not any that wanted to see him, so he'd been convinced to invite the Gordon's over as well as Wally West (after he finished thanksgiving with his family) and his uncle and aunt. Alfred wasn't very enthusiastic about having two speedsters over as well as Jason, but Skye was willing to help, so he tolerated it. Or at least pretended to.

Someone had bought big, wool sweaters for all the boys as well as Bruce and they'd all been somehow made to wear them (at least at first) and they were now garbed in said garments waiting outside the dining room (minus Bruce) waiting for the food to be done and guests to arrive. Jason had already changed out of his sweater and probably buried it in the garden somewhere and was lounging in a large chair in front of the fire, scrolling through his phone, absently observing his two younger brothers. They were both rolling around on the couch, Timmy trying to steal Dick's phone to text Wally while Dick tried to suffocate him with the empty sleeve of his sweater. They'd both kept their sweaters on, Timmy claiming he liked his and Dick seeming to feel it was handy enough to keep on.

"Hey, did you know it's supposed to dump snow this week?" Jason called from his spot, not looking up and not seeming to care if anyone heard him.

"Agh, Dick, I'm choking on fluff!"

"That's the idea, you little worm."

"Really Jason?" Damian walked in, a nice vest now over his sweater and a pen and paper in his hand. "Hopefully we won't get snowed in like last time."

"But that was awesome!" Timmy shouted, momentarily sitting up and off his brother.

"We were all stuck together," Jason stated. "For three days. Together. Three days. No way out."

"Yeah, it was so cool!"

"You weren't stuck with you." Dick shuddered, lunging for the younger boy.

"No way am I ever letting you two near that many cookies again." Jason looked up from his phone for a brief second and gave them a meaningful glare (not that they saw it).

"Hey, I wasn't that bad!" Dick argued, putting his hand on Timmy's face and shoving him into the cushions.

"Dick, you thought Ace was brainwashed and working for the Grinch." Damian said, walking around the couch to another chair across from Jason.

"Haha, I remember that!" Timmy laughed before biting his older brothers fingers.

"Ouch! Timmy, I need those fingers to eat!"

"You eat with your hands? Gross!"

"No, and I only have one hand, but I have to hold a for-"

"Dick eats with his hands!" Timmy started laughing hysterically, eventually rolling off the couch and onto the floor, still laughing.

"Alright, who gave him sugar?" Jason grumbled.

_Ding ding ding_

"Alfred!"

"I've got it Master Bruce! Ah, hello Master Gordon, Miss Barbara."

"Barbara!" Dick stood up and jumped over the back of the couch, racing towards the door. Damian stood as well, leaving his papers on a side table and following Dick to the door. Timmy was still lying on the floor laughing and Jason was back to looking at his phone until:

"Master Jason, come he polite and say hello! Put your phone away. And bring Master Timmy!"

"Kay, Alf." Jason locked his phone and put it down before grabbing Timmy and dragging him to the door.

"Uh, nice sweater, Dick." Barbara laughed, pulling him into a hug.

"Yeah, it's great for suffocation."

"O-k," Barbara turned away, going instead to hug Damian. She went to hug Timmy next, but seeing he was still snorting in half-laughter, settled for patting him on the head. She got to Jason and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope, not gonna hug you either."

"Wasn't gonna let ya."

At that moment Bruce walked in, a less wooly sweater on as went over and shook the Commissioner's hand, quickly getting into a deep conversation about something or other. Alfred excused himself and went back to the kitchen, and Damian joined in on the adults talk, leaving the other four alone.

"Wally's not here yet?" Barbara asked as she took off her coat and hung it a hook by the door.

"Course not." Jason scowled, leaning casually on the wall, his arms crossed.

"So we have a while to wait." Barbara rolled her eyes.

"Hey, hey!" Timmy shouted, finally having gotten over his laughter fit. "We should go jump off the roof!"

Four pairs of eyes turned to look at the youngest, eyebrows raised.

"You know Timmy, there's counseling for they." Jason said, sounding serious.

"No! I mean onto the snow pile! Like last year!" Timmy explained, his arms waving. "Yeesh, wouldn't kill you guys to think."

"That sounds... Potentially dangerous." Barbara offered, looking around at the three boys.

"Yeah, well, it is," Dick assured. "When you chuck people off!" He glared at Jason. The boy just smirked at him.

"Come on, guys! Let's go!" Timmy pleaded, a wild look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Babs," Jason smirked, getting off the wall and grabbing the redhead, steering towards the back door. "It'll be fun."

"Great."

oOo

Soon they were all dressed in big coats and boots and hats and scarves and were all standing on a portion of the mansions roof.

"So, the idea is that you jump off the roof and then hopefully land in the pile of snow." Jason explained to Barbara.

"Yeah, I'm not stupid." She answered.

"It's the best!" Timmy piped up, bouncing up and down in anticipation. "I'll demonstrate!"

Timmy then backed up on the roof before running full blast to the edge, whereupon he leaped off, sailing through the air before landing on the pile and disappearing in a puff of white. After a second a hand stuck up with a thumbs up.

"Oh, and it's best to land on your back." Jason told her. "More fun that way."

"Tt, and more dangerous."

"Damian!" Dick cried.

Jason raised an eyebrow at his older brother who was now standing on the roof, dressed in heavy winter clothes with a slight scowl on his face.

"I'm supervising." Damian said pointedly, crossing his arms.

"Whatever. Alright Babs, you're up."

"Ok," Barbara backed up a ways. "So you're supposed to run and then jump?"

"Yeah, unless your Dick. Then we just throw you." Jason reached over and grabbed Dick, picking him up and carrying him to the edge of the roof.

"Hey! Jason, put me down!" Dick struggled against his older brother, trying to get free.

"If you insist!" Jason laughed, spinning and hurling Dick off the roof.

"Dick!" Damian called, hurrying to the edge of the roof. "Be careful not to land on your-"

_Poof_

"-bad leg."

Dick's head popped out of the snow and he proceeded to glare at his older brother.

"Sometimes I wonder if he should really be doing this." Damian muttered to Jason, watching as Dick struggled to climb out of the snow pile.

"I don't."

"Good to know you care about your brother's safety." Damian retorted.

"I do!" Jason cried, looking mockingly appalled. "In fact, he needs someone to carry him back up the ladder. I care so much, I'm gonna send someone down to him." Jason moved to stand behind Damian, an evil smirk on his face as he winked at Barbara who gave the smallest smile.

"Jason, I don't like the sound of this. Why don't you just go down there yours-eeellllfff aaah!" Damian cried in surprise when Jason gave him a hard shove on his back, sending him off the edge of the roof and hurtling to earth.

"Four!"

"Woah, Damian! You're here!"

"Timothy, ge' off my head."

"Hey, Babs!" Dick's voice carried up to the roof. "You ever gonna jump or are you too scared?"

"Shut up, Grayson, and watch your head." Barbara backed up, nodding to Jason before charging forward and off the roof, proceeding to flip in the air once before landing neatly in the pile of snow, barely a foot from Dick's head.

"How's that for scared?" She asked, standing up and casually brushing snow off her coat.

"Yeah, yeah, show off," Dick grumbled. "Now can you help me up? I'm stuck."

Barbara laughed but reached down and grabbed Dick's arm with both hands before yanking upwards and pulling him up and standing.

"Thanks," He brushed snow off his neck, about to step out of the hole when: "Crap."

"What?"

"I think my foot's stuck."

Barbara giggled again, watching as the boy struggled to pull his leg out of the hole. He only succeeded in falling over multiple times.

"I can't – agh – feel it so I don't – urgh – know if I'm pulling it the right way or not!"

"Here, stop moving and I'll pull it out."

Barbara knelt down and stuck her hand in the hole, her eyes searching for Dick's boot. She found it and quickly unburied it, pulling it free of its snowy prison.

"There," She said, watching as Dick pulled his leg out. Walking in snow was hard for him, as he basically had to drag his prosthetic behind him or struggled to lift it free of the snow, neither of which actually worked anyway. One of his brothers usually ended up carrying him if the need to trek through snow ever arose.

They continued roof jumping, Wally joining them after a short time and Damian even participating, though claiming to still be 'supervising'. The jumping eventually turned into a competition of sorts: who could jump off the roof in the coolest way. Dick usually won, despite having two less limbs than the other participants and having to be thrown off the roof because he couldn't run well enough. Wally usually lost, his jump consisting of sprinting as fast as he could (without super speed) and then flailing dramatically in midair as he attempted to perform some sort of maneuver.

"How was that one?" Wally called up, his head popping out of the snow pile (they'd long since 're-fluffed' the pile, as Timmy called it).

"Two," Jason called back. "Same as last time. Dying bird. It's getting old."

"No way!" Wally argued, rolling out of his hole. "That time was way different! I basically spun around backwards in the air!"

"Sorry, didn't see it."

"Barbara, what do you give me?" Wally appealed, turning what he hoped was a puppy-dog face to the girl.

"Uh, two and a half."

"You guys are all biased!"

"Wally," Dick (who was waiting for someone to take him back up the ladder) put his hand on his friend's shoulder and gave him a very serious look. "It's okay, man. Everyone has their talents, their gifts. Yours just might not be jumping off roofs."

"But, but," Wally began, immediately falling into the part. "I thought it was my calling! The one, true place I belonged! The purpose in my life! Now what, dude? Now what? I'm a broken vessel, doomed to be tossed by the waves till I finally sink to my watery grave."

"No!" Dick cried, latching onto the older boy's shoulder and pretending to sob. "No, don't give up! There's a place for you in this world, I know it! Keep fighting! Keep searching! I'm here for you, buddy, I'm right here. I gotcha. I won't let you sink! Hold onto me! I'll keep you afloat."

"Thanks, man," Wally sniffled, patting the boy's back. "But, I hate to break it to you: you can't really swim all that well yourself."

"What?" Dick drew away, an appalled look playing across his features. "No, it can't be true! I can't swim? But, but, I thought that was _my _calling! I had it all set out: I was going to go to the Olympics! Swim against Michael Phelps! Wally, that was my dream! My aspiration! The one light in my life! Now what? Where do I turn?"

"Ah, man, bud, now we're both lost! Tossing among the wind like little flower petals-"

"That's very nice, guys," Jason called down, annoyed. "But how about you finish Shakespeare in the park somewhere that's not in the middle of the landing zone."

"Come on, man, let's go off into the wilderness and search out our true meaning!" Wally climbed off the snow pile and allowed Dick to climb on his back before striding off purposefully in the other direction, his and Dick's head held high as the younger struggled not to fall off his friends back.

Eventually Alfred stuck his head out the window and announced that dinner was ready. After a slight adventure trying to find Dick and Wally (who were a little ways into the woods shouting horrible improv poetry to each other) they all sat down at the huge table and waited while Alfred said grace before digging into the food. Wally and his uncle, of course, ate the most, despite having just eaten only an hour ago, with Jason in a close second. To attempt to list all the food present at the table would no doubt either bore the reader or make them drool uncontrollably so I will simply leave it up to imagination as to what food they all ate. Dick, though, ate a lot of zucchini, if one would care to know.

Once they'd all finished eating, the teenagers and Timmy proceeded to collapse on the couches and chairs in the living room, moaning and complaining about how they ate too much. Dick and Wally (who was the only one who didn't seem to be suffering from fullness) were laying on each other, Dick's prosthetic leg propped up on the back of the couch and the rest of his body contorted in an odd, inhuman position while Wally was splayed out along the entire length of the couch. Jason lay on the other couch, his head shoved in a pillow; Timmy was curled on his legs, his head buried in a pile of blankets; Damian was in the other room with the adults; Barbara was hunched up in a chair; and Ace was sitting on Wally and Dick, his eyes glazed from all the turkey he'd been fed.

"I'm never eating again," Timmy moaned, his arms tightening around his head.

"I second that." Barbara muttered, her arms wrapped around her knees and her chin resting on top.

"I will, maybe, in like ten years," Jason mumbled from in his pillow.

"We're not having pie, are we?" Dick asked, his arm resting over his eyes.

His question was met with a series of loud moans and protests.

"Come on guys," Wally tried. "It's not that ba-pleh, Dick, I'm eating your hair." Wally started trying to spit Dick's hair out of his mouth. "It's not that bad. I could go for pie."

"Wally, shut up."

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**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed, despite how it is no longer even close to Thanksgiving. Hopefully the Christmas one will be better. As always, requests and/or ideas are appreciated. I will try to fulfill the ones I have gotten but I always love more! Please review!

Alex out.


	5. Gingerbread

**A/N: **So, I made cookies and this was born! It's shorter than some of the others, but these will all vary in length, depending on what they are about. This one is better on time than the previous. ;)

Thanks to **Dextra2, The-girl-with-purple-eyes, yaoifanfake, greakfreak101, Guest that reads, **and **fofo amr **for reviewing and thank you to everyone who followed and favorited!

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Snow fell softly past the window, the ground, already covered in at least a foot of it, was accumulating more and more of the fluffy, white substance. Fluffy being a key word as the snow was of the fluffy type, easily crunched underfoot but nearly impossible to make into a ball. The entire landscape of Wayne manor was covered in it, giving the ancient building a homier feel than it usually possessed. Some of the many walkways had already been half shoveled, but the driveways were neglected under mounds of snow and the only car outside was nearly completely buried.

Inside the manor, three of the younger residents could be found in the large family room, sprawled across the many couches and chairs, a fire crackling in the fireplace and the television muted on the weather channel. Jason was draped across his favorite chair, an old leather one with a tear at the corner, a bowl of popcorn in his hands and a bored expression on his face. Dick was lying along the length of a couch, his prosthetic leg removed and lying in front of the fire to defrost (after having been out in the cold virtually unprotected for too long) as he absently picked at the right sleeve of the wool sweater he was wearing. Damian stood in the center of the room, a small stack of papers in his hand that he was reading from.

"You two are listening, aren't you?" He asked, looking up from his paper and glaring questioningly at his brothers.

"Totes, Dames." Dick replied, not looking up.

"Hmm," Damian nodded in disbelief. "Jason?"

"What?" Jason looked up, his eyebrow raised.

"Obviously not."

"It's okay, just keep going," Dick prompted, rolling over so that he was sitting up. "I, for one, am fascinated by pneumonoultramicroscopicsili covolcanoconiosis."

"That isn't even what this paper is about." Damian sighed. "It's not even the right subject."

"Damian, whatever you're babbling about, no one wants to hear it." Jason threw a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in his mouth. "I also don't think that boring your teacher to death will get you an A. Though I suppose it will get you out of class, if your teacher does die. But then you'll have to face criminal charges and stuff and go to jail and all that. If you're lucky, though, they might hire you as executioner someday."

"That's it, I'm leaving." Damian crouched down and gathered up his book bag and laptop before brushing past his brothers. "I'll just go find someone who will listen." He called over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

"Good luck with that!" Jason shouted back, flicking a piece of popcorn after his older brothers retreating back. It hit him in the back of the head but he didn't make any move to acknowledge it.

"Jason!" Dick glared, once Damian was gone.

"What, you can't expect me to believe that you were actually listening to that."

"That's beside the point." Dick pulled himself up fully into a sitting position, eyes still trained in a light glare at his older brother. "He always listens to my papers!"

"He basically writes your papers."

"Not true."

"Admit it, of you wrote your own papers, they'd be illegible smudges all reading: 'The gecko is an asterously whelming lizard who's usually trepid life is due to him being cognito-"

"Ok, first of all, writing stuff down for me does not count as writing my paper and second, I was like ten! Prefixes were new to me."

"They still are." Jason muttered, a small smirk on his face.

Dick leaped off the couch, a playful glare on his features as he made to charge Jason - only to remember that he only had one leg at the moment and crash face-first into the carpet. Jason, of course, started cracking up, spilling his popcorn and falling out of his chair he was laughing so hard. Dick managed to sit back up on the floor and just glared at his brother as he continued to laugh.

"Dick, Jason, Damian! I - um, okay." Timmy stopped his headlong dash at the sight of his two older brothers on the floor, one laughing his head off and one giving the other a death glare. This was actually a very normal occurrence - when the roles were reversed.

"Oh, hey Timmy." Dick spun around to look at the younger boy, his face softening.

"I guess I won't ask..." Timmy muttered, throwing another quick look at Jason. "But guess what!" He shouted, turning his attention back to Dick, his face lighting up. "Me and Alfred made gingerbread me- err, people. We made a Damian and Jason and a Bruce and an Alfred and me and you and Barbara and even Ace!"

"Sounds cool, Tim."

"Yeah, they're awesome! You gotta come see them! Jason too!"

"Uh, sure," Dick replied. "But you gotta help me up first."

"No!" Jason gasped, in between laughs. "Let him try... himself... more funny... that way!"

"Love you too, Jay." Dick muttered.

Timmy crouched down and wrapped his arms around Dick's body and dragged him back onto the couch. They may have been the same size, but Timmy was strong and Dick was small, not to mention he had less body weight due to missing two limbs.

"Thanks, now get me my leg." Dick directed, scooting up onto the couch so he didn't fall off.

"Ok, hurry!" Timmy handed his older brother the metal leg, bouncing impatiently from foot to foot. "They're so cool! You have to see them!"

Once Dick had finished strapping the leg to his thigh, Timmy grabbed his hand and yanked him up, nearly causing him to loose his balance again.

"Come on, Jay!" Timmy called, hurriedly dragging Dick out of the room.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Dick found that Damian and Alfred were already there, Damian with his eyes closed and Alfred holding a tray with a rather bored expression on his face.

"You better not have peeked, Damian," Timmy threatened, dragging Dick over so that he stood next to his oldest brother.

"When can I open my eyes?" Damian asked, his hand groping to try to locate whoever was next to him.

"As soon as Jason gets here. Dick, you have to close your eyes too."

"Gah, Jason, where are you?" Dick grudgingly closed his eyes, almost immediately loosing his balance and falling onto Damian. Luckily the older boy caught him and put him back in his feet, steadying him with one hand.

"Alright, Tim, I'm here. What is it?" Jason's voice drifted into the kitchen.

"Tada!"

Damian and Dick took that as a sign to open their eyes and when they did, saw Timmy holding out a tray with eight cookies on it, all different sizes but scarily human looking.

"Look, there's you, Damian!" Timmy pointed to one of the biggest cookies and Dick saw that it was decorated to look just like the older boy, clothes and all. "And there's Alfred and Bruce." Timmy pointed to the two other biggest cookies, one smaller and thinner and dressed in a frosting suit and the other larger and wearing more laid back clothes. "And there's Jason and Babs." Now Timmy pointed to two medium sized cookies, one with long, licorice hair and the other wearing what looked like a frosting leather jacket. "And there's me and Dick and Ace!" The last cookies were the smallest, Timmy and Dick the same size and Ace shaped like a dog with vanilla and chocolate frosting. Looking closer, Dick noticed his cookie was missing its right arm and left leg and that the leg had been replaced by a candy cane. Dick, having mostly come to terms with his disability, actually found it rather funny.

"Do you like them?" Timmy asked, beaming.

"Yeah, 'specially Dick." Jason teased, ruffling said boy's hair, much to his annoyance.

"Yeah, he was my favorite to make because I got to eat part of him!"

"You ate my arm and leg?" Dick asked, faking an appalled look. "You couldn't've even used a knife? Cannibal."

"Did he taste good?" Jason asked, a small smile growing in his face as he slowly inched towards Dick.

"Yeah, he was delicious!"

"Good to know..." Jason winked at Timmy before wrapping his arms around Dick and lifting him bodily off the ground.

"Ah, hey! Put me down!" Dick screeched, struggling to wiggle out of the older boy's grasp.

"No thanks." Jason spun around and carried Dick out of the kitchen, ignoring his wiggling and yells of protest. "I think gonna go make a Dick-Popsicle." Jason called over his shoulder to the rest of his family. "He'll probably taste the best that way."

"No! Hey, Jason! Put me down! Alfred! Timmy! No, don't take me outside! You'll make my leg freeze again! Damian! Help! Aaaaccce!"

* * *

**A/N: **So, I think I'm going sledding soon. Just a head ups for what the next chapter may or may not be. I have no idea. Inspiration hits and I have no control. ;)

Please review if you enjoyed! If not, well, tell me why? I dunno, but please review! They are much appreciated. Merry Christmas and enjoy the snow!

Alex out.


	6. Aliens

**A/N: **Found this sitting around in my emails. It's so ridiculously ridiculous, but I thought I'd post it anyways. Don't expect much... I probably got a bunch of other randomness like this sitting around somewhere. Maybe I'll get around to posting those too...

Also, I'm starting to work on requests. That's all.

Thanks for all the awesome reviews! I'll respond to the anonymous ones at the bottom.

* * *

Wally came into the kitchen to find Robin sitting on the counter, eyebrows furrowed, lost in thought. Of course Wally found it odd. Robin was an odd person in general, sure, but he wasn't one to sit around, wasting time for apparently no reason. Especially at the mountain. Wally hadn't seen Jason yet that day either, so the younger boy couldn't be stewing from an argument or something.

"Hey, Rob, what's up?"

Robin looked up, confused, before sighing. "Good question."

Wally raised an eyebrow, confused. "Uh, you okay, Rob?" He walked over and wriggled himself up in the counter next to the smaller boy.

"I hope so," The boy responded, barely acknowledging the speedsters presence.

"Uh, okay?"

Robin sighed again, narrowing his eyes and staring out across the kitchen. Wally looked him up and down, searching for something to explain the boys behavior. He found nothing too unusual; Robin was dressed in his civilian clothes, sunglasses actually removed from his eyes, but held in his hand. Either he knew the rest if the team wouldn't see him or else he was really out if it. Wally also noticed his hands were bare if their usual gloves, the glinting metal of the acrobat's robotic arm exposed for all the world to see. The Team must've not been at the mountain yet.

"So, wanna do something until the rest of the Team gets here?" Wally asked, hoping to break the silence.

"That's what I was doing. I think."

"Pardon?" Wally raised an eyebrow at the boy, terribly lost.

When Robin didn't reply, Wally decided to try another tactic. He sat still and began to stare intently at the younger boy's face, hoping it would somehow shake him out of whatever he was in. His eyes began wandering over his friends face because, like his body, they obviously weren't able to stay in one place for long. They traced over the pale scars lining his face, the marks well known by Wally, despite their faded appearance. He knew Robin could be slightly self-conscious about the scars, only because he'd been given crap about them when he was younger, but they had faded greatly since then. They weren't extremely noticeable and were hardly disfiguring, at least in Wally's opinion. And most girl's.

As Robin still didn't acknowledge the speedsters presence, Wally slowing moved his face closer and closer to the younger boy's, eyes widening as he tried to fry Robin's hair with his gaze. That would get his attention. Once Wally's face was within five inches Robin's hand shot out and planted itself on the older boy's face, shoving it away, Robin not even looking.

"Gah! Dude, your hand tastes terrible! Like soap and stuff."

And Robin still didn't respond.

"Dude, you're freaking me out!" Wally exclaimed. "What's up with you, bro? Do you want me to call your brothers and ask them?"

Silence.

"ROBIN!" Wally screamed, lurching and tackling the boy off the counter and onto the floor. "I should've known aliens had taken over your body!" He began shaking Robin, eyes frantic. "Get out of him you filthy aliens!"

"Wally! Wally! WALLY!" Robin lightly zapped the speedster with the Taser in his arm, shoving the older boy off of him. "What are you doing?"

"Ouch, dude, not cool!"

"You were shaking me like you wanted to rip me apart!"

"You were possessed!"

Robin raised an eyebrow, sitting up and kicking Wally away.

"Dude, you were sitting there, barely responding to me, acting like you were possessed!"

"Wally, what are you-?"

"People don't remember it happening, but an alien obviously got a hold of your body and was controlling you-"

"There was no one controlling me!" Robin stood up, brushing himself off.

"Then how do you explain your behavior, huh?" Wally shot to his feet, body in a defensive position.

Robin rolled his eyes. "I was thinking."

"About what? You weren't even moving practically!" Wally grabbed his friend's shoulders, trying to get him to understand.

Robin shoved Wally's hands off. "I came into the kitchen to do something, but I can't remember what!"

"Because you were possessed!"

"No!"

"Then why were you all like, weird?"

"Because I couldn't remember why I came in here!" Robin looked rather distraught at this.

"I do that all the time; I don't go all zombie mode."

"But I don't! I've never done that!" Robin's eyes were wide and Wally stopped, raising an eyebrow.

"You've never walked into a room before and not remembered why." Wally was incredulous, mouth hanging slightly open.

"Not that I remember!" Robin put a hand to his head, screwing up his face in worry. "What if I'm getting old! What if I'm aging prematurely and I'll be all wrinkly and gray when I'm twenty!"

"Dude, seriously?"

"Wally, I've-"

"What did I hear about filthy aliens?" Superboy's voice drifted into the kitchen as the clone appeared at the doorway, eyes narrowed. Robin hastily shoved his glasses on and stuck his right hand in his pocket.

"You're home from school early, Supey." Robin laughed nervously.

"No I'm not."

"It's only like 2:30."

"It's almost four."

Robin's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"Dude, you've been sitting here since 2:30?" Wally snorted, incredulous.

Robin's mouth was slightly open and he looked in shock. Conner gave them one last look before turning around and walking away.

"Wow, Rob, you've got no life."

Robin didn't respond again and Wally started laughing, leaning against the younger boy as he gasped out jokes.

"Recognized: Red Hood, B-02."

"Robin."

Wally looked up to see Robin's older brother standing in the doorway, an annoyed look on his face.

"Oh, hey Red..."

Red Hood walked in, giving Wally, who was still snorting in laughter, a questioning look.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Uhh..." Robin trailed off, still looking disconcerted.

"What's wrong with you?" Red smacked Wally on the head, succeeding in getting him to mostly shut up.

"Let's go Rob. You can explain this on the way." Jason grabbed his little brother's arm and pulled him out of the kitchen, heading for the zeta beam.

"Wait, where're we going?"

"Ski trip, remember? Agent A's insistence." Red Hood grumbled, jaw tight.

"I thought you liked skiing..."

"Not when I have to ride in a plane with all of you to get there. Now let's go."

"Just wait. Bruce let me invite Wally. We can't leave without him."

Red Hood swore and punched Robin's arm. "Shut up."

"Hey, Wally!" Robin smirked, wriggling out of his brother's grasp. "Ski trip, let's go!"

"I hate you."

* * *

**A/N: **So, the ski trip thing might go somewhere. I'm not sure.

**Keepmovingforward2: **Thanks!

**Guest that reads: **Truth, and thanks!

**ethuil: **Thanks!

**Guest: **Totes! A lot of people requested that, so hopefully I'll get around to it...

**Anonymous: **Yep, I'll work on that! Thanks!

**Guest: **Yeah, I definitely want to have some back in time ones showing the beginnings and such.

**Anonymous: **Don't worry, I won't!

**Nohbody: **Oh dear. Thanks, and I will try.

Sorry this gets updated so slow! I was busy on my full-length story and now I have at least two one-shots lined up and then the sequel to Behind the Mask, but I can usually find time when I'm bored to type up some stuff for this.

Thanks for reading!

Alex out.


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